Claire Delacroix (99 page)

“My daughter!” Millard roared, and swung her in the air with undisguised delight. Alys did not know whether to laugh or cry; she had never imagined she would know such a moment, so she did both.

“Aye, you have your mother’s smile, child.” With Alys’s hand clasped in his own, Millard turned and bellowed to the entire assembly, “My daughter is Alys of Kiltorren!”

He spun with startling speed to face Alys again. “And you are an heiress, child,
my
heir. All I have is yours. Come, come to Villonne, and see what I have built.”

Margaux rose to her feet. “That will be impossible, Millard. My son’s betrothed must remain at Montvieux.”

Millard squared his shoulders and faced Margaux undaunted. “Your son has spurned Montvieux, from what I
heard. Indeed, he may not be a fitting match for my daughter, given her new status.”

Margaux inhaled sharply. “My son is worthy of a queen’s hand.”

“And Villonne is a king’s prize. Whosoever my daughter weds shall be a mighty man indeed.”

“Ye gods,” Burke muttered under his breath. “ ’Twas far simpler, Alys, when I was disinherited and you had no parents.”

Alys laughed, but their respective parents turned a common blaze of fury upon Burke. “I heard that!” they cried as one.

“You shall remain at Montvieux!”

“You shall come to Villonne!”

“We remain at Montvieux on this day, for my lady has need of a rest.” Burke captured Alys’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. He winked at her. “After that, who shall say?”

“How can you propose to wed my daughter?” Millard demanded. “You have no legacy!”

Burke shrugged. “We are en route to the tourneys in Champagne.”

“Tourneys!” Millard spat into the rushes. “My daughter will not wed a knight with no better prospect than that.”

“And I had thought,” Burke mused, “that Isibeal’s family declined your suit because you held no land.”

Millard blanched; he caught his breath, and glared at Burke. “You could be killed. Then what would become of Alys?”

“Burke would not need to tourney, if he were to be heir to Villonne,” Alys dared to suggest. “I am certain he has the skill to administer it …”

“Of course he has the skill,” Margaux snapped. “He was raised to command Montvieux.”

“A much
smaller
holding,” Millard observed.

“If he spurned Montvieux, he might well spurn Villonne,” Margaux observed coldly. “Do not hold your breath in this, Millard.”

“Burke?” Millard asked, all eyes turning upon the knight.

But Burke looked only to his lady. “Alys?”

“What of freedom from burdens?”

“In truth, I miss the security of knowing my responsibilities.” Burke smiled in that slow way that heated Alys from head to toe. “And I would welcome the chance to indulge you fully, as the lady of an estate should be.”

“You would not tourney?”

Burke grinned. “I know you will be woefully disappointed.”

There truly was no choice. “We should do this,” she decided.

“We accept,” Burke informed Millard, folding Alys’s hand into his own.

“And we shall be wed,” Alys added.

“In a fortnight,” Burke clarified.

“The wedding must be a rich one,” Millard argued. “ ’Twill take three months to be arranged as befits the sole daughter of Villonne.”

“And the son of Montvieux,” Margaux added.

Millard shook a finger at the couple. “I will have no rumor dogging this match. There will be no cause for counting fingers when your first child arrives, or you, sir, will have much to answer for.”

Burke smiled easily. “Your concern comes too late.”

Margaux caught her breath, Millard swore. They exchanged a glance.

“Two weeks, then, and not a day less,” Margaux charged. “We shall be ready, one way or the other.”

“And you shall be wed at Villonne!”

“Nay, they shall be wed at Montvieux!”

Burke and Alys exchanged a glance. “We shall decide.” And leaving their parents all aflutter, he led Alys away.

“You are incorrigible.”

Burke grinned, then sobered. “And you would change this?” He looked at Alys, hope in the silvery depths of his eyes, and she knew ’twas past time she made her confession.

“Nay, I love you, Burke, just as you are.” Alys framed his face in her hands, resolved to leave him no doubt of her feelings. “Though I may take issue with you, you will know the truth of it. Rest assured that you shall endure my company for all your days.”

Burke laughed. He kissed her with abandon, his arms tight around her, then withdrew with a grin. “And what of all my nights?” he jested. “And your mornings? Indeed, I understand that you had a most busy morn on this day, my lady fair.”

“This morn?”

Burke’s eyes twinkled so merrily that Alys wondered what he was about. “Aye, I hear that you have had pleasure beyond any I could grant from an
ostler.
I know that you had no chance to tarry with any ostler at Crevy. It must have been this morn that you sampled some ostler’s charms.”

Alys laughed, and before Burke could tease her further, she granted him a kiss meant to curl his toes.

His eyes gleamed when he finally lifted his head. “Ostler or no ostler,” he muttered, “ ’tis high time I showed you the merit of a honeyed tongue.”

Alys could hardly wait.

n the end, they were wed in a fortnight at Villonne, Margaux planning a fete for Midsummer at Montvieux, one of suitable richness to impress a king.

For Margaux had learned of Brianna’s pregnancy and insisted upon summoning Luc and Brianna to Montvieux,
necessitating
a wait for their arrival. She would not hear of her first grandchild—even a grandchild not hers in the strict sense of reckoning bloodlines—being born in the “uncivilized wilds” of Ireland.

Burke refused to accept a delay in the nuptials, for he did not believe Brianna would abandon Tullymullagh. Sparks flew at Montvieux, each as stubborn as
the
other, though Alys’s suggestion of the dual celebration seemed to satisfy all.

And it suited Alys well enough to be wed quickly—to keep those busy fingers from counting—but also to have the chance to become acquainted with her father at Villonne. He proved to be a man of marked honor, filled with tales, who sang
chansons
in a marvelously deep voice.

Aye, Millard would be a perfect grandfather.

Villonne lay to the west of Paris, situated on the Loire, its hall still being built. Burke took to the administration like a duck to water, he and Millard agreeing so frequently on how matters should be that it became a jest they were but two peas
from the same pod. And Alys became accustomed to all that was expected of her, as lady of the keep, including an insistence that Edana and Kerwyn be suitably wed.

Alys learned to ride better with Burke’s assistance, and her father’s first gift to her was a fine chestnut mare with an easy gait. Alys was not the only one enchanted with the gentle creature, for Burke had to restrain Moonshadow with a vengeance whenever they rode together.

Burke commented that he had never intended to learn the art of breeding destriers but clearly would not have much choice.

And so ’twas they rode to Montvieux in June, already wed but prepared to celebrate their match anew. Luc and Brianna were indeed there, Brigid and Guillaume made the journey, and even Margaux thawed enough to kiss Alys’s cheeks thrice in succession.

“My brother Rowan,” Burke murmured to her when a russet-haired man sauntered into the hall crowded with guests.

“Typically late,” Luc added. Margaux immediately waved her cane at her errant son and summoned him with a shout.

“I would not be in his hide,” Luc commented.

Burke grinned. “He takes no notice of her at all. Watch.”

Alys did watch as Rowan nonchalantly plucked a sweet from a nearby table and assessed a serving maid’s charms. ’Twas as if he were blissfully unaware of his mother’s approach.

“His manner drives her mad,” Burke confided to Alys.

She grinned. “To be incorrigible seems a family trait.”

“No doubt.” Burke winked just before Margaux roared.

“A pox upon you! Late for your own brother’s wedding fete and not a word of apology from your lips.”

Rowan saluted Burke with a wave, then turned an engaging smile on Margaux. “You would not want me stealing the bride’s affections, would you, Mother?”

Margaux poked the butt of her cane into his chest. “You had a woman on her back, and I know it well. Look at you! You smile as if there were naught amiss with that …”

Rowan spread his hands. “And what is amiss with that?”

“The lack of wedding vows!”

Rowan scoffed. “You cannot say as
you
have not taken lovers without the benefit of wedding vows. And indeed I am testimony alone that Father did not feel inclined to adhere to his.”

Luc’s brows rose and Burke gave a low whistle at Rowan’s boldness. The assembly noted the exchange now and turned to watch.

Margaux hissed through her teeth. “The cheek of you! We have an entire hall of guests, the estate celebrates the nuptials of my only son, and you can do naught but embarrass those who have taken you in.” She drew herself up taller. “You have a charm, Rowan, but truly you grow too old to trade upon that alone.”

Rowan looked at Margaux, clearly startled by her words.

“Now she has his attention,” Luc murmured with a smile.

Rowan hid his surprise very quickly. Alys sensed that he was not one to readily give hint of his own feelings. Nay, he was one to cover all with a smile and a jest.

He smiled now and he jested, propping one hand against a table to grant Margaux a cocky grin. “And what shall you do, Mother? Further embarrass your house by casting me out?”

“Nay, I shall grant you one last chance.” The tension eased immediately from Rowan’s features, but Margaux shook her head. “Do not be so relieved before you know my condition.”

Rowan folded his arms across his chest. “And what is that?”

“You were sent on a bride quest by Brianna of Tullymullagh. Your brothers have both found brides yet you have none.” Margaux stepped back. “You will return to Montvieux with a bride before the Yule or I shall wash my hands of you.”

“You would not!”

“I would. Do not doubt me this time, Rowan.”

“But you cannot do this!”

“I most certainly can. By the Yule.” Margaux turned away with satisfaction and beckoned to her guests. “Come! The meat grows cold!” At her signal, the minstrels began to sing, the wine was poured, and the guests moved to the board in a swirl of fine cloth and glittering jewels.

Rowan stood unmoved as if he could not believe Margaux’s decree. Then he shook his head and strode to meet his brothers.

“See what a fix you have made for me,” he complained amiably, bowing low over first Brianna’s, then Alys’s hand. “I shall have to find a way to persuade her to dismiss this task.”

“Why do you not simply seek a bride?” Luc suggested.

Rowan glanced at him in surprise. “Tell me that is a jest.”

“ ’Tis not to Margaux,” Burke observed.

“A bride?” Rowan grimaced, then flashed a smile to Alys. “No offense intended, of course, but some men are not made for matrimony.” His expression brightened. “I should bring home a dancing girl, with a dozen brats to her name already. That would teach Mother not to challenge me thus.”

“And leave you in the cold all the same,” Luc concluded.

“Aye, the way you indulge yourself, you should wed an heiress,” Burke jested.

“He
should
wed an heiress,” Luc repeated as if sampling the idea and finding it favorable.

“Wait a moment!” Rowan protested. “I will wed no heiress!”

“ ’Tis fair enough, for no heiress of sense would wed you,” Burke observed.

“Nay, ’twould be her father who would protest the match,” Luc corrected. The foursome chuckled at Rowan’s expense, while that man feigned insult and looked between them.

“You do not think I can do this!”

“Of course not!” Luc agreed.

“We should challenge him,” Burke declared. “Rowan loves a dare.”

“Now, wait a moment! I do not even want a holding!”

“I did not seek Tullymullagh.” Luc spread one hand to Burke.

“I did not expect Villonne.” They smoothly turned on their dismayed brother. “She must be heiress to an estate larger than either Tullymullagh or Villonne,” Burke concluded.

“An Irish heiress,” Brianna amended.

“And you will wed her before the Yule,” Luc added. “We shall meet you here on Christmas Day when you present your bride.”

“You do not think I can do this.”

Burke chuckled. “We
know
you cannot do this.”

Rowan appealed to Alys. “Do you see what manner of family you have joined? To imagine that a man’s own blood could think so little of him.”

“ ’Tis shocking,” Alys agreed, barely holding back her smile.

“Do you think I can do it?”

Alys laughed aloud. “Nay, I do not!”

Rowan chuckled, then threw his hands skyward. “Neither do I!” he declared recklessly. “But a man who lives without risk does not truly live at all.” Rowan pivoted and shouted across the hall, his cry halting the minstrels’ music. “Mother! I shall wed an Irish heiress by the Yule or never darken your doorstep again!”